Over lunch yesterday, my roommate quipped about a rather dramatic contingent of our social circle, "Being friends with those three is like being friends with US Weekly." While I'm not entirely sure how one becomes friends with a magazine, I can tell you this: I wish there was a little more US Weekly material at Penn.
In our attempt to gather "dirt" for a gossip column for the "Stijl" section this week, we came up empty-handed. First and foremost, I blame my informants' alcoholism. At our secret meeting on Sunday night at the decided rendezvous point, all my operatives arrived with zero information and identical excuses, "I'm sure there was scandalous behavior going on around me, but I was too drunk to remember it." After berating them for their poor performance, my agents synced their watches, exited in a flash and I was left pondering, "Charlie, how your Angels get down like that?"
The only "scintillating" information that I received about this past Saturday night concerned an incident at the infamous Deck. Apparently a few guys got pissed off for getting kicked out of a party and instead of trying to start an actual fight, decided to throw a cinder block at the door. The block dented the door frame, preventing it from opening and thereby trapping the revelers inside. Apparently, everyone had forgotten to bring their Prada repelling kits and were forced to wait for the police to arrive and fix the door.
I was shocked to discover that at a gossipy place like Penn, there was so little gossip to be found. Come on guys, we are the "Social Ivy." You're letting me down.
I've boiled down the problem to this: No one wants to dish dirt about their friends. As an aspiring journalist, I'm used to tattle-telling. But for those not immersed in the trade, follow Joan Didion's advice, "Writers are always selling someone out." And if you refuse to sell out your friends, then how about selling out your enemies. What could be better revenge against your nemesis than splashing the gossip column with tales of their seedy sex life? Just send those juicy tidbits to streetdailypennsylvanian.com. If you're worried about pissing people off, don't worry -- that's what humor is all about.
